


Santa Moz

by Pennygirl612



Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28138719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennygirl612/pseuds/Pennygirl612
Summary: Six year old Neal Burke pens a special Dear Santa letter with an unusual request.  Can Santa Moz help make his Christmas wish come true?
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	Santa Moz

**Author's Note:**

> I dedicate this to J in the hopes she will forgive me for spending my 2 snow days working on Christmas fluff instead of the WC AU story I am supposed to be working on. The Muse and I blame the foot of snow that fell yesterday for the Christmas spirit distraction!

Santa Moz

**_Our Christmas tale begins in a townhouse in Brooklyn where a six-year-old boy is writing his first letter to Santa…_ **

Seated at the dining room table, the look of concentration on his young face was simply precious. This being his first letter to Santa, he was taking the task quite seriously. Several minutes passed without movement from the green crayon in his small hand. The frown on his face became more prominent as another minute ticked by, a look reminiscent of his father. 

Hidden from his view, Elizabeth watched as her son suddenly crumbled the sheet of paper and in frustration threw it on the floor. The impulsiveness and quick temper of the action something certainly inherited from her side of the family. 

Now with a blank page in front of him, Neal wrote with a flurry, crayon decisively marking the page. As quickly as he started, he was finished, the green crayon placed triumphantly down on the table. Next, her son reviewed what he had written. Appearing satisfied, he carefully folded the sheet and inserted it into the envelope.

Before she could be discovered, Elizabeth ducked back into the living room. Soon enough her young son approached, envelope addressed for the North Pole in hand. Earnest blue eyes looked up to meet her gaze, but it was with a small amount of reluctance that he finally offered it to his mother. Together they walked out the front door, and he waited while she placed the letter in their mailbox. 

Once the envelope was gone from view, her son almost appeared relieved the letter was out of his hands, both literally and figuratively, as if finding comfort knowing there was no going back, no changing his mind now. Before she could question him, her son returned inside walking immediately upstairs to play in his room. 

Elizabeth was a bit puzzled by his behavior. You wouldn’t think a Dear Santa letter would create such anxiety and uncertainty, but she had to admit that her normally carefree son had of late been acting more subdued than normal. Maybe he had felt a certain pressure with his first letter. This was a mystery she would need to get to the bottom of. 

Retrieving both the envelope and the wadded paper, she entered the kitchen, pondering what her son had written to Santa. Curiosity in full bloom, she looked first at the discarded page. Skimming the list, nothing was there she had not anticipated: Legos, a baseball mitt, a remote control Krabby Patty Vehicle with SpongeBob, and Matchbox cars. What was unexpected was the large, angry X slashed across the paper. What had caused her son to get frustrated enough to mark the page and start over again? And more importantly, what had made the final cut? Were there any surprises necessitating a last-minute shopping trip? 

Setting the kettle on the stove, she turned the burner on high and impatiently waited for the water to come to a boil. Once steam was rising out of the spout, she placed the envelope over it until the flap started to peel away. Cutting off the heat source, she slipped the page out and at last read what her son had written.

Blinking hard, Elizabeth re-read the page. Indeed, her son had surprised her, and she was beginning to understand the true nature of his distress. His letter revealing something that until today, she had been completely unaware was weighing on his mind. Neal had made only one request, but it wasn’t something to be bought at a toy store. It wasn’t something you could buy at all. No, it was far more personal than that, and Elizabeth feared even Santa with all his magical powers wouldn’t be able to grant this Christmas wish.

WCXMAS*WCXMAS

Elizabeth was still in the kitchen when Peter returned from his morning run. A goofy proud papa smile lit up his face when he saw the envelope addressed to the North Pole, but the smile faded seeing his wife teary-eyed and solemn.

Without a word, Elizabeth handed over the letter. Wiping her eyes, she observed her husband as he read what their son had asked of Santa. He went still, experiencing the same shock she had felt…was still feeling.

Dear Santa,

All I want for Christmas is my Uncle Neal. I have never met him, and I know my Mommy and Daddy really miss him and would like to have him home for Christmas too.

Thank you

Neal Burke 

WCXMAS*WCXMAS

“Peter, what do we do?”

She didn’t really expect an answer since it wasn’t a fair question. What _could_ they do? Neal’s absence from their lives had never been by their choice. While they had come to terms with why Neal had felt the need to fake his own death and head off to Europe, the fact that he had made no effort to contact them since was still a sensitive wound even after six years. The apparent ease for which Neal had been able to move on had created a deep, raw ache that routinely resurrected itself without warning. The stiffness in her husband’s stance, the mask he was hiding behind, let her know she wasn’t alone in feeling that ache now.

Not knowing what else to do, Elizabeth took the sheet from Peter’s hand. Without a word, she resealed the envelope, carried it outside, and slipped it back into the mailbox. Returning inside, she caught a glimpse of Peter, luggage bag in hand, striding up the steps. 

“What are you doing?” she called out, despite it being obvious. She just couldn’t believe he was even considering it. 

“I’m going to find him,” was Peter’s response just before he disappeared from her view.

Joining him in the bedroom, she tracked the mission-oriented way he moved about the room. He wasn’t thinking clearly. The whole idea was ludicrous, an impossible task. 

“You really think you can do that?!” Elizabeth asked, not bothering to hide the skepticism in her voice. The narrow-eyed look he shot her made her add the part she felt he was failing to consider. “ _Before Christmas_?!”

Peter shrugged but didn’t stop packing. Her husband either wasn’t fazed by the fact Christmas was only six days away or was in utter denial about the challenges he would face. It would take a Christmas miracle to find Neal let alone convince him to return to New York. 

Elizabeth sighed, understanding what was motivating her husband. Failure would mean letting his son down, and that was something Elizabeth realized Peter was not prepared to do. And their very perceptive son had been right. His Mommy and Daddy really did miss Neal.

WCXMAS*WCXMAS

Just before his bedtime, Elizabeth had helped Neal put out milk and cookies for Santa. Her son had been unusually quiet throughout the day and she suspected the cause. But it wasn’t until she was tucking him in that Neal finally voiced his fear. Soft blue eyes had stared up at her when asking if Daddy was going to make it home for Christmas. Elizabeth had planted a smile on her face and confidently informed her son that his Daddy wouldn’t dare miss Christmas. 

And it hadn’t been a lie. Peter had called the night before, frustrated, angry with himself that he had found no trace of Neal knowing time was running out. He had vowed not to give up, but Elizabeth had already come to terms with the fact their son would not receive his one Santa request. Gently, she had asked Peter to come home. She had already bought and wrapped the gifts on Neal’s original Santa list, and believed their son would be okay as long as his father was present. There had been a long silence before the whispered “I’m coming home” came across the line. 

She witnessed her husband cross the threshold shortly after midnight. As he closed the door, she could see that he was worn out and exhausted. Quickly she planted a smile on her face, letting him know she was happy to have him home. And it was true, she was relieved he had made it back in time. Unfortunately, Peter had already witnessed her moment of disappointment when it was clear he was all alone. Despite what she had told him on the phone, there had been a small part of her convinced Peter would do the impossible.

“I tried,” he choked out, unable to look at her.

She crossed the room and pulled him into a hug. “I know you did,” she assured him, her hand making soothing circles against his back. “Neal will understand.”

Peter pulled away. “No, he won’t.”

“Your right,” she conceded, the look of pain on his face enough to shatter her heart. “Today, he won’t. But one day, _he will!_ ”

An uncomfortable silence fell on what should have been a joyous time for them. But they took no pleasure in arranging the Christmas gifts under the tree or filling Neal’s stocking, and the cookies and the milk were choked down without any sense of taste. 

With nothing more to be done, they retired to bed. Together, they would face their son in the morning and somehow make it a special Christmas.

WCXMAS*WCXMAS

Elizabeth had just managed to get to sleep when she was woken by a noise from downstairs. Slipping out of bed, she tip-toed barefoot to the stairs. Halfway down, she froze at the sight of a short, round figure standing in her living room. She relaxed feeling confident she recognized the intruder despite his unusual attire. Amused, she took in his red velvet suit, trimmed in white; the large black belt crossing his waist; and the red cap with its large white ball perched on top of his mostly bald head. 

Spying Elizabeth, her intruder quickly readjusted the fake white beard that had been hanging off his face. “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas,” he said, voice low ensuring he wouldn’t wake up any other member of the Burke household. 

“Mozzie,” she exclaimed with a slight giggle. “What are you doing here?”

“Santa Moz comes bearing gifts,” he answered pointing towards the Christmas tree. 

Continuing down the stairs, Elizabeth saw a large red sack and let out a gasp. The sack appeared full and was…moving!

Her head whipped back to confront him, “That’s not—you didn’t--”

With a twinkle in his eye, he nodded. “Santa Moz heard about young Neal’s special Christmas request.”

In a hurry, Elizabeth moved past Mozzie and with trembling hands untied the ribbon around the top of the sack, gently spreading the top open to peer inside. And there staring back at her was a very annoyed, slightly drugged Ghost of Christmas Past. 

Stepping out, Neal shot a glare at the jolly old fellow. “Santa Moz? Really?! Well Santa Moz didn’t have to kidnap and drug me! He could have just asked!”

“Would you have come,” Elizabeth questioned, her tone a mixture of hope and doubt. 

Turning to her, Neal’s face immediately softened. “Of course, I would have come.” Seeing the tear threatening to fall, Neal carefully wiped it away. “Damn it, Elizabeth,” he whispered in a strained voice. “You named _your son_ after me! Do you know how hard that made it to stay away?!”

Taking in the scene, Santa Moz could see his work here was done, and it was time to bid his adieu. After all, he still had other Christmas miracles to perform before the night was through. 

No sooner had the door closed that Elizabeth heard a creak from the stairs. There stood Peter and their son both gaping at the sight of Neal standing in their living room. 

Nodding his greeting to Peter, Neal stepped forward to address the young boy wearing Spiderman pajamas. “Hi there. My name is Neal. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

The boy looked up, a shy smile on his lips, “My name’s Neal too.” He paused then said softly, “I wasn’t sure Santa would find you.”

Exchanging looks with both Burkes, Neal kneeled to be eye level with his namesake. “Santa recognized how important it was that I come home.”

Elizabeth locked eyes with her husband. Gone were the worry lines and exhaustion etched into his face. The small upturn of his lips was the first she had seen since reading Neal’s Dear Santa letter. A weight lifted from her spirit and knew the same was true for Peter. Their adoptive son was home where he belonged, and Peter and Elizabeth were grateful to bear witness to their very own Christmas miracle.

**_And so ends our Christmas tale. Until next year, Santa Moz wishes a Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!_ **


End file.
